So there I was, trucking along on my daily speedwalk, complementing myself on how trim and lean I was becoming, decked out with Made in China from head to foot, dodging the occasional Irvine yuppie bicyclist, reminding myself with superiority that I don't need no stinking spandex; I don't need no stinking helmet; and I don't need no stinking $2000 machine to get me from here to there. I'm a walking man in my prime, doing walking.
So round the bend in style I strode, and what do I see just ahead of me but a hapless bicyclist, tinkering with the chain of an expensive looking racing bike. Closing in, I was mentally prepared to toss off some snotty comment about how I didn't need no stinking bike when, "Holy shit!" I said to myself, "It's Dr. N."
Indeed it was. It was the great Doctor Michel de Nostradamus himself, decked out in tri-colored spandex and helmet to match, hunched over a vintage Rene Herse French racing bicycle, getting his boney doctor fingers greasy.
"Holy shit!" I said.
"Dr. N." I said, "What are you doing here?"
"Good morning, Apprentice," the Good Doctor replied, "I've been expecting you."
"Huh?" I stammered, "How did you find me?"
"I'm the man." The Man said, "And," pointing to my belt, "your iPhone's regular GPS updates. It's a no brainer; no special powers required."
"Well," I said, "I suspected Steve Jobs was tracking me, especially after it became known that I was your One and Only Chief Spokesperson and Authorized Representative. A lot of famous people were hitting me up for free personalized predictions. But I never suspected you would stalk me."
I sensed some impatience from the Great One so I moved on, "So, to what do I owe the honor of this visitation?"
"It's time for your quarterly review." the Maestro replied.
My heart sunk. "Shit." I said, "Sensei, we just went through this and I passed with flying colors. Don't you trust me yet?"
"It has come to my attention, Number One," Dr. Nostradamus replied, "That you have been using biblical quotes to enliven the Nostradamus Speaks column."
"And that is a problem?" I said, practically indignant.
"Not a problem if done right," Dr. N. said, "but my understanding from your job application is that you aren't even religious, let alone Christian. Don't you think readers might think it a bit hypocritical when you start throwing scripture around? Integrity is important in this profession and my spokesperson must be beyond reproach."
"Sensei, Maestro, Your Excellency," I groveled in my defense, "I only put scripture out there when it pops into my head, and I know that it irritates some readers who fancy themselves Christians and know I am a godless atheist. I like to imagine their heads exploding. Is that bad?"
"Yes, Grasshopper," The Boss said, "It's bad, and it's immature, and I should not have to remind you, but Nostradamus Speaks is not about you, it's about me."
"Sure thing Chief," I hastened to respond, "Got it! Here, look, see, I'm writing it down." I whipped out my iPhone, opened Notes, and tapped it out: "Cast not your pearls before swine. Matthew 7:6, and remember, Nostradamus Speaks is not about you, it's about me!"
"Look." I said, showing the note. "I like this gig Boss, and I promise I won't fuck it up."
"Well, okay." The Great Seer of Seers and Prognosticator of Prognosticators finally said...after an uncomfortable pause.
"We good then?"
"Yes, we're good."
"Cool." I said, then moved on, "Oh, by the way, you were spot on with that last prognostication, what with Egypt and the ambassador in Libya and the new rash of blue on green killings of western soldiers in Afghanistan."
"Yes," he said, "but like I also said, it was not rocket science. The Americans have lost yet another war, and Mr. Obama is desperate for a way out. Peace with honor comes to mind."
With that the Good Doctor grew quiet and I sensed that our meeting had concluded so I kept my eye on him hoping to catch his disappearing act in the act.
But he waved me on. "I will contact you again shortly. Before the election for sure."
I glanced up the trail to get my bearings again and then back to say goodbye. But he was gone.
Dixi
(Originally posted September 16, 2010)
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